


The Soldier

by smokeandmirrorscloakanddagger



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-06 12:05:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11600280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeandmirrorscloakanddagger/pseuds/smokeandmirrorscloakanddagger
Summary: The tragedy of Bucky Barnes as chronicled through his mental health.The reader helps him as best she can.





	1. Winter

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> Also I'm thinking of maybe turning this into a series? Let me know what you think about that. ❤️❤️

“Hey,” she draws her fingers across his covered cheek. “Are you okay?” A streak of water rolls down her face. They’re both soaking wet from the hard rain that falls. It’s been raining all day and small pools of water litter the surface of the dark alleyway.

The eyes that had been fierce and murderous seconds before have now softened. They’re fearful and childlike and muddled. His hair is wet and hanging in tangled strands down his face.

She tucks some hair behind his ear and then gently reaches out with both hands to detach the muzzle from his face. “Hey,” she whispers again. “There you are. You okay?”

“Did I hurt you?” His voice is deep and rough, gravely concerned.

A lie is on the tip of her tongue when she changes her mind. “You were going to, I think. But you stopped.”

He’s silent and still for a long time as rain continues to pelt down on them. Thick muscular arms cage her in on either side, preventing her from moving away from the brick wall behind her. “How did you stop me?” His blue eyes flick over her, assess her quickly. “You don’t have the physical strength to have stopped me yourself, weaponless.”

“I don’t know. You looked at me and stopped.” But his eyes still look terrified and confused. He’s so afraid and she thinks part of the fear may be because of her. “Do you know who you are?”

He starts to breathe hard. “No, no, no. It-It happens sometimes I don’t remember-,”

Y/N puts her hands back on his face, the mask falling from her fingertips and landing in a puddle at their feet. “It’s okay. Come with me. I’ll take care of you.” She trails her fingers down his face, over his neck, to his chest. “It’s okay.”

He had tensed hard when she touched his neck. “Why am I here?”

“You had a mission but it’s over now.” She says on a whim. “It’s over and you’re safe.”

Some of the tension seems to drain from his shoulders. “Do you require a mission report?” He asks lowly, worriedly. If he said the wrong thing, if he didn’t do well enough, it could result in punishment.

“I don’t need one. You did well. I know you did.” He shivers at the light praise, the gentleness in her voice. “C’mon. Come with me.” The Winter Soldier lowers his arms and lets her pass once she stoops down and picks up the muzzle, follows obediently behind the woman. He keeps a distance but not so far that something or someone could harm her. The space is large enough between them that she’ll feel safe from _him._

She reaches her building in no time and waits for him to catch up.

They take the stairs and go into her apartment. “Stay here, don’t move,” she says quietly. Y/N goes to the bathroom and turns on the shower before searching for some clothes and setting them out on the counter. The Soldier would be hungry too but she thinks maybe she should let him clean up a little first.

When she returns to the door he’s stock still, having seemed not to have moved an inch. Y/N would guess that he hadn’t even shifted his feet. Her words had been careless, she knows he takes orders literally. Her heart drops in her chest before she reaches out to take his hand, murmuring to him to follow after her. His eyes had been locked on the muzzle that she sat on her counter with her keys.

Once in the bathroom she pushes his wet hair behind his ears and then starts to pry off the leather vest. Her fingers have just grazed it when his metal hand captures both her wrists in a bruising grip. Startled, she looks up to meet his eyes, pupils blown wide. The blue of his eyes have almost entirely disappeared. “It’s okay.” 

She receives no response and is afraid she might have lost him again. That he might suddenly snap her wrists and pin her against the wall. But The Soldier doesn’t feel fear, and that is what’s lying in his eyes at the moment. He's absolutely petrified. “I should not hurt you.” He says quietly. There’s no question in his voice and when she lifts her eyes back to his he seems determined. “I should not hurt you.”

“That’s right,” Y/N says suddenly, nodding. “That’s right.” He folds at the praise, releasing her hands and bowing his head low. “And I won’t hurt _you_.” Besides a small twitch of surprise he doesn’t acknowledge her voice. He expects to be hurt.

Her fingers catch on the straps again when he asks softly. “Why?”

For a moment she doesn’t say anything, not trusting her voice, instead just works on getting the tight leather away from his skin as the bathroom starts to fill with steam. “I protect you,” he says cautiously when she doesn't answer his question.

“Yes. You do.” She doesn’t hesitate to agree to that statement. When she looks back up a different sort of fierceness has pushed into his eyes. Then he reaches down to take a small gun strapped to his thigh out of its holster. He pushes it into her hand. “What-,”

He refuses to explain it but insists she keep it. And for the sake of time and the amount of hot water probably left she takes it and puts it on the counter behind her, nodding as though she understands and even expected it. Once the leather is removed she quickly works him out of his pants and boots, trying desperately not to look at his body, at his scars.

“In the shower now. Make sure to wash your hair thoroughly. Wash the blood away, wash everywhere.” She commands, figuring she needs to be explicit with him about what he should be doing. “And when you’re done, dress and come out to the kitchen. Okay?”

He grunts in agreement and Y/N nods to herself, planning on going to the kitchen to find something for him to eat. She takes the gun with her figuring the moisture wouldn't be good for it. She also removes the rest of his weapons and hides them safely away. Y/N changes out of her wet clothes and into something comfortable before going to the kitchen.

Y/N settles on something small to eat for the moment, Greek yogurt and fruit. And it’s a good thing as he doesn’t take long in the shower at all. His hair is still dripping wet when he silently enters the room and so she commands him to eat and then fetches a towel. The Soldier sits at the counter on a barstool as she stands behind him and towels off his hair. “Eat.”

Slowly he picks up the spoon and does so. She notices him eyeing the gun he gave her on the counter. When his hair is mostly dry and he’s finished eating Y/N pulls him away from the counter, leaving the gun behind.

His body is stiff and tense and he won’t look her in the eyes.

“It’s okay.” She touches his arm softly. “You’re alright. But you should sleep now. You're tired. Your mission was long.”

He meets her eyes, confusion lying there. “Sleep?”

“Mmhm.” But he doesn’t seem to know what she means, which scares her a little. “I’ll show you,” Y/N whispers, tangling her fingers with his, which both seems to confuse him more and comfort him at the same time. “Follow me.”

She pulls him to her bedroom and gestures for him to lie down. He lies stiffly on his back, his whole body rigid as she climbs in next to him and tucks the comforter around him. For a while it’s silent and still until he says into the darkness. “This seems inefficient. You should put me away.”

“Put you-,” she doesn’t finish that sentence, not wanting to know what it is he meant by that. “No. No, no, I think you should try sleep. It’s nice.”

“How?” His voice cracks.

She reaches over and runs her hands over his left shoulder. “You relax. Just listen to my voice. And relax.” Y/N tugs on him, “Roll over here.” He does as commanded, nestling his head between her breasts, as she threads her fingers through his hair, combing gently. He makes a content noise. “Close your eyes. Just listen to my heart. Just try to relax.”

It takes maybe an hour before his heartrate starts to slow and his breathing evens out. “What’s your name?” He murmurs. “I don’t have one.”

Her heart breaks because he does have one and she whispers, “Don’t worry about my name.” He falls asleep.

 

~

 

Several hours later he wakes up, face still pressed into Y/N’s chest. She's still awake when he groans and tightens his arms around her. Her fingers tighten against his skull, scratch lightly over his scalp. “Baby,” he whispers. “Y/N. I’m sorry. I know you, I know you. I'm sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it Buck. It’s okay.” Telling him who he is, who she is when he's in that fragile in between state, only shocks him and sends him back into that murderous rage. They had found that out the hard way and so each time it happens she pretends. She pretends it's the first time. 

“I forgot you, doll.” He presses a soft kiss to her collarbone. “Again.”

Her fingers scratch against his hair, “That’s why I think we should talk to Steve. You aren’t ready for the field. Not yet, honey, it’s too soon.” Worry laces her voice. “It happens every time, sweetheart.” And it's starting to become worse.

For the past few months he’s been denying it, saying he's fine. But he can’t keep hurting Y/N this way. He can’t keep making her do this for him. Besides he’s tired. He’s tired of the man he turns into. He’s tired of thinking that Y/N was his handler until he came back to her. She's his girl not his handler and she'd never treat him like she's one.

“Okay," he agrees.

She lets out a shaky, relieved breath. “Okay. Good, good. Okay. I love you, Buck.”

“I love you.” He whispers, “Thanks for always getting me back.”

“I’ll always bring you home.”

He kisses her throat. He tries not to feel guilty. 


	2. Podcasts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to surprisingly good feedback, I've decided to do a miniseries based around the first chapter. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. I hope you like it! ❤️❤️

Bucky is sitting on her couch with headphones in. He has a distant look in his eyes that tells her he’s listening to a podcast again.

Y/N stays in the doorway a moment, a basket of laundry held on her hip, as some raw emotion she can’t quite identify rips through her chest. It nearly knocks the breath out of her with its intensity. Because Y/N really doesn’t know what to do anymore, and she knows she’ll have to place another call to Steve.

The distant look suddenly changes to deeply haunted and then horrified, and then he pales and grips the couch cushions hard. A tearing sound echoes across the room and she sighs, tears picking the corners of her eyes.

She deposits the basket onto the floor and makes her way across the room, treading quietly so as not to suddenly spook the distracted soldier. Bucky jerks away from her when she sits down next to him. His breaths come hard and panicked even when he recognizes her. There’s a wildness in his eyes that lets her know he hasn’t yet fully returned to present day. Y/N folds her hand around his which still has the cushion in a crushing grip.

Slowly, the fingers unclench as she continues to rub her own over the smooth metal. He can feel the pressure of her hand, gauge the warmth of her skin, and somehow it grounds him, brings him slowly home.

When he seems to have calmed considerably she reaches up and tugs the headphones away from his ears. They slide down to rest around his neck causing Bucky to shiver lightly. Then she takes his phone from where it rests on his thigh and pauses the podcast.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is hoarse and graveled, and his eyes are still haunted and terrified.

Shame starts to creep into his features, an embarrassed flush coating his cheeks. “We talked about this, Buck,” she admonishes quietly.

It’s quiet for a long time, sunshine streaking in the windows as dust motes float by. Her apartment is cozy and warm and close, nearly the opposite of the buzz of the Tower that Bucky had left behind. Eventually she reaches out and takes his shaking flesh hand. She strokes her thumb over his hand softly until the trembling subsides. “I just want what’s best for you, baby.”

“I know,” he says, tugging on her hand until she leans against him. “I know.” 

A shaky breath passes her lips as she tucks her face against his throat. “I worry about you. I worry so much.” Lightly she presses a kiss to his collarbone. “This isn’t good for your mental health, Bucky. In fact, it’s really, _really_ bad. You can’t listen to that stuff, okay?”

“I don’t mean to.” He lets her pull him downward, until her back is against the sofa. Y/N presses her hands through his hair, lets the silky strands fall through her fingers. The tension riddling his body starts to dissipate, and slowly he begins to relax. With his head against Y/N’s chest, and her heartbeat in his ear, everything starts to feel better. “I tell myself I shouldn’t. And then I tell myself I can get through five minutes. And then I can’t stop.”

She tugs lightly on his hair before running her hands under the collar of his shirt, massaging away the remaining strain. “I showed you podcasts because I thought you would like the space and science ones, hon.”

Bucky nuzzles against her and whispers, “I know.” Delicate finger smooth over his shoulders and the top of his spine. “But when I went browsing…it was there and-,” he stops, pushes his arms around her back. “And I was curious what they could be saying even now.”

He had found a podcast about World War II. Y/N hasn’t listened to it herself but his face told her what it was mainly about: reviewing the greatest atrocities and tragedies of the war.

A panic attack had ensued the first time he listened to it. And then he had promised not to do it anymore. But curiosity and some strange sense of pride had over come him. He wanted to prove he could listen to it and not be affected. And so it had escalated.

Now he listened endlessly, almost obsessively. Usually triggering a panic attack of some sort. It's a vicious cycle, one that at times seems without end.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Buck,” she says suddenly. “I don’t know how to deal with this. We thought moving you out of the Tower would help. But you still kept relapsing into the Winter Soldier. So, you finally agreed to get out of the field and we thought that would help but you just keep spiraling and you won’t get help. And I-I don’t know what to do. What am I supposed to do?”

Her fingers tap nervously against the skin of his back. Bottled up inside her other questions rocket around. _What is she doing wrong? Why did he pick her? Is she not enough? Is it selfish of her to think that it has something to do with her? Why couldn't she help him?_

She didn’t grow up around soldiers. She doesn’t know what to do to help him. Most days she just did her best. Bringing the Soldier away from the surface of his skin after missions and in times of stress had been achieved through much trial and error over the year they had been together. But helping with mental illness seemed out of her league. Especially with a person who refused all forms of help.

Getting Bucky to go to therapy had been a no go. Doctors of any kind petrified him, even the kind that weren’t medical.

“What am I supposed to do?” She whispers again, almost to herself.

And Bucky isn’t just a soldier. He’s a POW. He’s a person who had been abused and traumatized for decades. He’s a person with a knockoff version of a super soldier serum swimming around in his blood. What is she supposed to do?

How is she supposed to help him? Or at least help him help himself? 

He’s pulling away from her, looking up to meet her eyes. “You aren’t supposed to do anything, Y/N. It’s not your fight.”

“Bucky you need help. You need to let someone stand beside you and fight with you. But you refuse to-,”

He nestles his head on her chest again. “No,” he whispers softly. “Not you. I know you mean you. Not you.” Y/N strokes his hair nervously, anxiety claws violently at her gut.

“Buck-,”

He sighs, “You do too much already. And I have to keep you safe.”

Her heart lurches as dangerous words slip past her lips. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

“What do you mean?” The vulnerability in his voice breaks her heart, shatters it until there's only dust.

“We just need to do better. Together. I need us to do better. You’re forgetting and I don’t want you to forget.”

His bottom lip trembles. “I don’t want to forget either.” He hugs her tighter. “I don’t. That’s why I listen.”


	3. Examination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Bucky holds Y/N’s hand tightly and glares at Steve and Bruce and the rest of the medical team. They had kicked Tony out only minutes before, for insensitivity.

For the past fifteen minutes they’ve been trying to calm Bucky down so they can do the procedure but his hand just keeps tightening on hers. “No,” he says lowly to Y/N. “Absolutely not. I’m not doing this.”

He reaches up to pry away the sensors stuck to his temples when Y/N stops him, her fingers catching at his wrists. It had become abundantly clear as soon as they walked into the med bay that the only person Bucky would listen to is her. “Buck, just hold on a second.” One of the medical staff starts to walk forward which only makes Bucky tense and grab Y/N, as he slides off the examination table.

A sigh leaves her as he moves in front of her protectively. He’s on edge and breathing hard. A panic attack is only seconds away and so Y/N carefully presses one hand into his flesh bicep and steps in front of him. “Could we have a minute alone? Please?” She addresses the room.

As soon as she asks Steve is ushering everyone out of the med bay, nodding in understanding at her before the door snaps shut. She turns slowly back to him, his chest rising and falling rapidly, “C’mere, hon.” Y/N steps closer and puts her hands against his chest. “Sit down. Calm down.” She presses until he sits down again, his flesh hand coming up to cover one of her own. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

Gently, she reaches up to take the sensors off with her free hand, lying them carefully on a metal tray nearby. She smooths back some of his hair and then reaches up to kiss his forehead. “I’m alright.” His voice is low and the hand holding hers against his chest tightens further.

“You aren’t and that’s okay. I know this must be hard and I can’t imagine how much courage this must have taken, to agree to sit here like this.” Bucky squeezes her hand and closes his eyes. He’s doing it for her because he wants to be better for her, but he’s also come to terms with the fact that he wants to be better for _himself_. “But they’re here to help you. They’ve all been carefully vetted, by a team of researchers, by Tony, by Steve. Even Nat looked into them. You are _safe_ here. And it’s okay to be scared but you need help. And if something were to happen…” She shrugs, “Me and Steve are here. The rest of the Avengers aren’t that far away. No one is going to let anything happen to you.”

He opens his eyes and pats the space next to him, keeping his fingers twinned with hers he brings their hands away from his chest and holds hers against his thigh instead. When she’s settled next to him he says, “It’s just so hard.” Bucky’s voice cracks a little with strain and Y/N tries to keep the surprise off of her face.

As Bucky rarely opens up to her about this, about anything, she doesn’t want to do the wrong thing and push him back into silence. “I know they’re good people. I know they won’t intentionally hurt me. But I still panic. I’m really glad that you do these things with me. I’m really glad to have you. Makes it a lot easier, y’know? Knowing you have someone there. There was no one for a long time. I was always alone.”

Silence suddenly swallows up his voice again. “Thanks for telling me that,” she whispers, caressing the back of his hand with her thumb, her throat tight with unshed tears.

“I know that this isn’t…easy for you. Y’know…being with-with  _me_. But you stick with me anyways. Even if I’m broken and damn difficult to be around.” He keeps his head down, eyes focused intensely on the floor and she knows it’s to avoid looking at the rest of the room, to keep down the horror of being surrounded by clean lines and medical equipment. “After I went Winter Soldier on you when we first got together I was sure you’d end it. It’s too much. I know it’s too much. But you didn’t. You stayed. You tried your best to understand, and help. And that’s more than I could ever ask for, more than I’ll ever deserve.”

Shock masks her face now and Y/N struggles to hold back the tears pushing at the back of her eyes. “Baby…you never told me that. I wasn’t going anywhere. I’m here.”

Suddenly unable to stand her being so far away he pulls her into his lap. She puts her arms around his neck as her legs slide to brace on either side of his hips. Bucky winds his arms tightly around her back and presses his face into her neck, bringing her as close as he possibly can.

He usually fluctuates between periods of intense need for contact and extreme aversion to it. Most times he likes to be touching her though, like now. Plus with his face buried in her shoulder like this he can’t smell the sterile, bleached scent of the room, and he can’t see it either. Every inhalation gives him the sweet perfume of her Y/N’s skin, and a blissful blanket of blackness presses to the inside of his eyelids. It’s nice. It’s better. He doesn’t feel so out of his element. They could be at home. “Tell me again what they’re going to do.”

For a moment she stays silent, lets him steel himself to what might upset him. When he takes a deep breath that’s when she begins.  

“They’re going to put those sensors along your forehead and temple. Tony designed them. They’re non-invasive. All they do is read your brainwaves. We’ll just keep them there for the rest of today, tonight, and tomorrow.” She rubs his back gently when he tightens his arms around her. “You won’t even know they’re there.”

He shudders. “But I’ll have to stay here?”

His terror a few minutes earlier suddenly makes sense. If Bucky thought they would leave him here…“Oh no, no, no darling,” she says, horrified at the thought of leaving Bucky alone in the med bay overnight. “We’ll hangout at home. It’s supposed to be normal. No more or less stress than usual. To get an accurate reading.”

A tense silence stretches over the room then, Y/N brushing her fingers through his hair softly as she tries to soothe him. His breathing is starting to become panicked again. “And..?”

She kisses the side of his head. “They want to take a blood sample, Buck. But everyone’s agreed that unless you give explicit consent, that it’s best for everyone if they don’t take it.”

“Meaning I could snap.”

It isn’t a question and she frowns. “Meaning it could hurt your mental health.”

“But that is a concern isn’t it? That I’ll snap and-,”

Her voice is a little harsh when she cuts him off, “ _No_. No, that isn’t a concern. Besides, I’m here and I know the Soldier better than anyone else. And he knows me.”

He nods against her, his throat tight with an emotion he doesn’t quite recognize. Bucky thinks its love. He loves her so much that sometimes he can’t breathe for the weight of it. “What else will they do?”

“Weight. Temperature. That’s it, baby. And then they’re going to give us paperwork to take home and fill out for your first therapy session.” She continues to runs her hands through his hair. “I’m so proud of you, Buck.”

He huffs out a disbelieving breath against her neck. “Don’t get too excited I might still-,”

Y/N interrupts him again, this time gentler, and with overwhelming love and pride in her voice. “ _I am proud of you_. Even if you say no today, agreeing at all, to  _anything_ , is such a big step. Just being in this room is such a big step.”

Bucky’s fingers tap against her sides as he thinks, “You’ll be here?” His voice is muffled against her neck.

“The whole time, Buck.”

He swallows dryly and takes another long deep breath. “I’m afraid first because of what happened to me. But also because I’m petrified sometimes that I’m still-still _there_. That you and these people will disappear and I’ll be strapped to another table with Zola hovering over me. Or one of the others. And I’ll be t-tortured again, picked apart again, and that it’ll be worse because I’ll know this softness you’ve offered me. It will be so much _worse_.” Bucky shakes his head weakly.

“Oh, hon.” Her heart breaks for him as she feels a few tears hit her neck. The fact that he’s told her that at all is a testament to his commitment to getting better, being better. He never speaks to her about it, trying to protect and shield her from what happened to him. “Bucky. I’m here. You’re here. I’d die before I let someone do that to you again.”

A soft sob hitches in his throat and lungs as he finally shows the emotion he’s been dying to let out and she’s been craving to see. “Don’t go dyin’ on me, sweetheart.”

It takes a long time for him to calm down but when he does he whispers to Y/N to go get the medical team, that he’s ready. Carefully, she climbs down, but not before she pauses to press a soft kiss to his mouth. “I’m here. And so are  _you_. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know. And Y/N,” he takes her hand before she can walk away. “I know I’m not a man of many words. I know I don’t say it as much as I should. And it’s selfish that I don’t because of my own fear. But, I love you. I need you to know, I love you so much.”

She reaches out and pats his cheek. “You were a man of many words today and I’m proud. I always am, that you struggle onwards. I love you too.”

He bows his head and lets her kiss his forehead one last time before she leaves.

 

~

 

They leave the sensors off. Tony and Dr. Cho agree that they can put them on once they get back to the apartment.

And then they have to take his blood. Fearful eyes meet hers, wildness and desperation starting to filter in. He looks trapped. So, she pushes past the scientists and doctors and plants herself next to him on the examination table. She demands that no one touch him until she gave the go ahead. Her fingers tangle with his metal ones, “Steve? Bring me my phone and my headphones?”

Steve does as asked and Y/N offers the buds to Bucky. “Put them in,” she instructs softly. And because this is so different from anything else he’s ever experienced he does so, wonder just what it is she’s up to. “Just listen and focus on my hand. How warm my hand is. My heartbeat. The pressure of my hand.”

“Okay,” he whispers, keeping his eyes on hers.

Over his shoulder she sees someone bring out needles. “Now close your eyes. Keep them closed. I’m here with you. I’ll be here the whole time.” She presses play. He would likely still hear everything but it gave him something else to focus on.

His eyes had been red and swollen. No one mentions it. No one mentions that The Winter Soldier had been crying lest they incur the wrath of Steve and Y/N, or even Tony. Bucky wouldn’t have minded if they had mentioned it. He wants to be better dammit, and if crying is a part of that, then so be it.

Bucky tenses hard when a nurse starts to tie a rubber strip around his upper arm. The nurse backs away anxiously and whispers to her, “Could you get him to relax a little?”

Y/N glares at the man but turns and slides her hand over Bucky’s jaw, knows that he’ll be able to tell it’s her hand. Bucky leans into it as she strokes her thumb there. He relaxes slowly, everyone waiting patiently, before Y/N reaches down and presses his flesh hand into a loose fist. With a little encouragement he clenches his fist and then she tightens her grip on his metal hand, letting him know that the needle was coming.

He tightens his hand on hers, just enough to be a little painful, and focuses on what she told him to. The different pressures she exerts on his fingers, the warmth of her skin, the gentle flutter of her heartbeat, and the pumping of her blood.

When they’re finished she removes the earbuds and he kisses her cheek. “See? It’s okay.” She presses her fingers to the gauze tapped over the inside of his elbow. “It’s okay. I’m still here.”

“We’re still here.”

Weight and temperature are done quickly and painlessly. They’re given the paperwork for the therapist and Steve hugs his friend before they go. “Proud of you, Buck.”

“Thanks Stevie.” Bucky feels infinitely better outside the doors of the med bay, with his best friend and his girl looking at him very much like he accomplished a lot.

He wraps his arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “Wanna go home?” She asks. Bucky nods.

“Remember the sensors!” Steve shouts down the hall after them.

 

~

 

That night Bucky sits on their bed with the papers, a pen poised above them. Y/N comes out of their bathroom and walks over. Her hand stokes carefully over his forehead to avoid disturbing the sensors. “What’s wrong, baby?”

He frowns and looks up at her. “You’re wonderful.”

She smiles. “Well, I try.”

“And I know…that maybe this is a lot to ask. But maybe you wouldn’t mind coming to the first few, uh,” he glances down at the papers, “the first few sessions.” When she doesn’t respond right away he takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. “You can say no.”

But she’s choked up because he’s finally asking for help, and in more ways than one.

Y/N climbs into bed and opens her arms to him. Immediately he’s settled against her, the papers left to the nightstand for the night.

She’s warm and soft and home. He thinks maybe she’s been right this whole time, about getting help. “I’ll come to the first few. I know you’ll be anxious and defensive.”

“I am not-,”

“Yes, you are. It’s okay though.” She kisses his cheek and then his lips. “I love you.”

Her fingers flutter over his back and shoulders before she reaches over to click the light off. And when she scratches her fingers over his scalp and his arms tighten around her waist she thinks that things might be looking up. It’s a start, at least, in the right direction.

 


	4. Everything Else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think and thanks for reading! 
> 
> Also, this chapter contains body dismorphia (different from dysphoria which is gender based) and I apologize for any inaccuracies. Everything is based on what I've researched.

The only thing Y/N can think when Bucky comes back to their apartment is that he looks damn good.

“Like it?” He asks nervously, one hand coming up to stroke over his hair.

Y/N walks forward and takes his chin in her hand, tipping his head back so she can get a good look at him. “You look so good, Buck. There’s nothing for you to hide your pretty face behind now.”

He’s chopped off all his hair and Y/N can’t help but think he looks exactly like the young sergeant in the photos Steve has shown her. It’s all a part of the therapy he’s going through with the slight body dysmorphia he experiences. They thought that cutting his hair would help him to stop seeing the Winter Soldier every time he looked in the mirror. “Really? You like it?”

She nods. Y/N had kept her word and then some, going to every therapy session with him. Mostly she would just curl on the couch next to him and doze, her head in his lap as his fingers carefully ran along her sides or played with the ends of her hair. He didn’t need her to be active in the session but rather just to be there. Y/N is often the thing that links him to the ground, keeps him firmly on earth.

When Bucky had told the therapist he could barely stand to glance in a mirror, she had suggested some changes. Y/N’s heart had broken that day. It explained the obsessive exercise. It explained why Bucky changed his clothes three times a day, hiding different parts of his body depending on what was bothering him. It explained why he never looked in mirrors.

The changes are gradual but good. He gets better all the time. And Y/N has taken up the call to try to make him feel good about himself. Which really wasn’t that hard, considering she thinks he’s the most beautiful person alive.

“Really.” Her fingers travel from his face to his chest where she runs her nails down his torso. “In fact I like it a lot.” Y/N hooks her fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and tugs him forward.

A smirk graces his face. “Babydoll, you coulda told me months ago that all I had to do was cut my hair to get you in the mood.” One thing that never changed was Bucky’s love of his body if it could make Y/N feel good. It’s the only time he feels fully good about himself.

“I told you I really like those pictures Steve showed me.”

Bucky wraps his metal arm around her waist and tugs her closer. His hand roves downward to squeeze a handful of her ass. “You keep those pictures, doll?” She shrugs and he grins, “That’s naughty Y/N.”

She stands on her tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “I just thought you looked _really_ good.” Y/N grazes her teeth along the shell of his ear.

A shiver runs up his spine and Bucky suddenly has to have her. “I’ll give you a real life version of those photos baby.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna charm me like you did all the dames back in the day? Treat a girl right?”

A dark chuckle leaves him, “Don’t I treat you right now?”

She pretends to think about it, humming gently to herself, but Bucky’s had enough of her nonsense and picks her up, carrying her bridal style as though she weighs nothing. A laugh leaves Y/N as he carries her to the bedroom, because she knows she’s played him just right.

 

~

 

Y/N is panting and drenched in sweat when Bucky rolls away from her. He had fucked her right through two orgasms. And that only made her loud, vocal. Already he wants to go again because that was their second round but he thinks he should give Y/N a break. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so goddamn good.” Immediately he’s tucking her up against his side, nuzzling into her hair.

She pushes him away, laughing again. “I gotta go to work, Buck.”

He groans. “What? C’mon baby, do you have to?”

“I do. And I only have about two minutes to shower and leave because of you. You can’t ever just go one round, it has to be damn marathon.” The myth about super soldier stamina holds to be true, which is both good and exhausting. Her muscles are already starting to ache in odd places and she’s exceptionally worn out now.

Bucky just looks proud of himself as he watches her pull together an outfit to lay out. “We’ll pick it up when you get home then.” She didn’t bother with covering up and is clearly teasing him as she bends at the waist to pick something up from the floor. She looks divine, heavenly. He wants to bury his face between those thighs again.

She turns and places her chosen clothes on a chair in the corner of the room before she comes back over to the bed. Y/N leans down and presses her lips to his in a chaste kiss that starts to turn when he slips his tongue into her mouth. Confidence is soaring in his chest, wild and hot. Usually she had to guide nearly everything he did, reassure him that she’s okay and that he isn’t hurting her.

“Should have cut your hair a long time ago. I think I like this Bucky.” She pulls away, slips right through his fingertips, as his heart plummets into his stomach. Likes _this_ Bucky?

But it makes sense. Of course she should like _him_ better. 

Bucky isn’t that person anymore. Y/N knows that. 

Panic starts to settle over him. Because he hates who he is and now Y/N does too. The only good thing about him had been that Y/N loved him, and loved him unconditionally.

But it makes sense because how could she love the damaged thing more than the whole, charming person?

 

~

 

She knows something is wrong as soon as she gets home in the early hours of the morning. Her shoulders are tense as she stands in their bedroom doorway.

He’s wearing a long sleeved shirt and sweatpants. It makes her frown. His usual attire consisted of a pair of boxers, or more likely: nothing. Bucky became overheated fairly easily, considering how hot he runs. Even stranger is that he’s lying on his side of the bed. He’s on his stomach with his arms folded beneath the pillow and his face turned away from her. When she wasn’t there he’d unusually stay on her side until she nudged him gently over when she arrived home. Her scent comforted him.

But now…

She examines him carefully. “Bucky?”

He doesn’t stir and so she decides to leave him there, quickly going through her nightly routine before she climbs in bed on Bucky’s side. Even though he’s asleep and won’t hear her she whispers that she loves him, before cuddling close to him.

And that is also odd because usually he’d wake just a little and whisper, ‘hey, doll’, pull her into his side, and fall back to sleep. But today he doesn’t move at all, just keeps breathing deeply, his face is still turned away from her. So, she pushes herself as close as she can, lying her head on his bicep, slinging her leg over his hip and her arm over his upper back.

It’s not as good as being engulfed by him but she’ll take it.

When she wakes the next morning however, he isn’t in bed with her and that strange feeling of wrong only intensifies.

Ever since they started living together they’d slept together. He’s never just left her. He's always there with her in the morning if they were both at home.

She looks in their bathroom first before taking her search elsewhere and going to the kitchen. He’s drinking a cup of coffee. There isn’t one set out for her and he doesn’t greet her when he would usually hand her a cup made just the way she likes it and kiss her cheek. He’s wearing clothes that cover his whole body again, something he usually only does when he's feeling very uncomfortable in his own skin. But he'd been doing so well lately...

Something is very wrong and she’s unsure what to do. She knows what the clothes mean. But his eyes are lifeless and faraway, his body stiff and tense, and she doesn’t know what that means. She doesn’t know what it means when directed at her.

“Morning, Buck.”

“Hey.” Short and curt.

She pretends that there aren’t tears burning behind her eyes and goes about pouring herself a cup of coffee. Leaning against the counter next to him earns her nothing, not even a glance in her direction. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Bucky,” she touches his shoulder. He jumps and jerks away from her. Shock overcomes her, “Did I do something wrong? Why are you acting like this?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment and still won’t look at her. “I don’t think you should come with me to therapy anymore.”

Her breath stalls and her heart seems to fall out of her chest. Because she’s done something to break his trust. Y/N doesn’t know what though. “What’s wrong? What have I done?”

There’s no answer. He just walks away.

But he pauses in the doorway, “I just don’t think I’m good enough for you Y/N.” Y/N practically runs across the room to him. She presses a hand to either side of his face and searches his eyes. “And I know you think the same.”

“I-I don’t?" Confusion laces her tone. "I don’t. I swear I don’t. What makes you say that…” she trails off and looks at his clothes, remembers their conversation. Bucky can see the wheels turning in her head, as she makes sense of him. She’s good at reading him, better at it at least, than she gives herself credit for.

“I’m never gonna be that person. I’m never gonna be him. Not again. He's dead and I’m here and no one wants that, least of all me.”

Y/N wraps her arms around him, heart breaking as she reaches one hand up to tangle in his hair. “I don’t want you to be him.” She tugs at his short locks, “Honey, is it because of your hair? That was supposed to help.”

“It’s everything.” He says, tugging at his sleeves self-consciously. “I’m not the same.”

She takes his hand and pulls him in the direction of the bathroom. “C’mon.” Reluctantly, he follows.

Once in the bathroom she stands him in front of the mirror and tugs on his shirt until he lets her pull it off. He won’t look up, so she stands behind him and leans her chin on his shoulder, winds her arms around his waist. “What do you see that is so wrong?” Again he won’t look up. It breaks her heart because he had been doing so much better. He had been smiling and laughing, meeting her gaze, and his own in the mirror. “Buck? Will you look at me at least?”

He meets her eyes in the mirror.

“I love you, baby,” she murmurs. “ _You_. As you are now.” She squeezes her arms around him gently. “And I know I’m no good at helping you and I know saying this doesn’t make it go away but I think you’re perfect any way you look. I love you.”

There’s a moment of silence as they hold each other’s gaze in the mirror. His eyes drop again. “You’re better than you think at being helpful. You make it possible for me to get professional help.” Bucky swallows thickly and then whispers, “It’s just that you said you liked this Bucky and I know I’ll never be as good as he once was and so-,”

“Sweetheart,” she murmurs, “That’s not what I meant. I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel this way Buck.” Tears burn at her eyes, “I-,”

He shakes his head, “I know. I know. I…" he trails off and looks at himself in the mirror. "I hate the arm and I hated my hair and I hate the scars and I hate how bulky I am. I hate it all.” He pauses for a second as a look of panic starts to form in his eyes. “It all reminds me of him. The Winter Soldier. I don't see me, I see him. It's like I'm trapped again, screaming to get out of my own goddamn body. It's not mine, it's not me.”

Y/N moves in front of him, sits on the counter and wraps her legs around his waist. She pulls him forward until his face is nestled against her neck, her arms going around his naked back. “Those things don’t make you who you are. You are Bucky Barnes.” Her voice is quiet and sorrowful. A long moment of silence passes where Bucky holds her and tries to feel like he owns his person, his thoughts, this moment.

Bucky squeezes her so tightly she feels like she might pop. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Bucky?” Her voice cracks horribly. “I am so sorry. And I love everything about you. No matter what.”

“Thanks, baby.”

She sniffles and pulls back to look into his eyes before she presses a gentle kiss to his pouty lips. “I know that doesn’t make it any better but…I love you so much that I-,”

This time he leans forward to kiss her quiet. “It helps though, Y/N. You help even if you don’t think you do.”

She pats his bicep as he presses his forehead to hers. “We need to start doing more of the positives thing Dr. Mendoza said to do.”

“I know.”

When he doesn’t say anything she clears her throat and says, “Okay, I’ll start.” He stiffens and so Y/N pats his arm again and whispers, “You don’t have to look at you. Just look at me.” Usually he's supposed to look at himself and turn negatives into positives.

His eyes become hyper focused on hers immediately. “Tell me.”

Y/N tells him, in great detail, what she thinks about him, about everything about him, inside and out. And at the end of it he remembers again why he takes Y/N to therapy with him. Because when someone like Y/N is looking at him and saying such things it’s sort of hard for him to feel bad, because she says it with truth on her tongue and love in her eyes. “I know you struggle,” she says when she finishes listing every possible positive aspect of himself that she knows he thinks about negatively. “But I am here. And _you_ are the man I fell in love with. Not any other version. And believe it or not but it wasn’t because of your looks. Certainly is a bonus though.” She smiles gently and he returns one to her.

“What was it then, doll?”

“Everything else.” 


	5. Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N has bad days too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Sometimes Bucky forgets.

He forgets that Y/N needs him as much as he needs her. So, sometimes, he’ll have a bad week. During that week, or month, or day, he won’t realize that Y/N is suffering right alongside him.

A quiet sob will echo through their apartment, one not meant to be heard, and he’ll realize.

She hasn’t spoken as much recently. Or gone on her usual runs. Or woken him up with a kiss to his forehead. She hasn’t been eating, or staying in bed through the night, or reading on the sofa.

It’s then that he’ll realize that recently it’s been too much on her. He’s been too much, a weight she gladly bears. A weight that she doesn’t consider a weight. She’ll tell him instead that he’s weightless, like air, something necessary and life-giving. And of course he’ll scoff and move on.

But there are days where his shit and hers pile up and she can’t do it anymore. Y/N tries to hide it, mostly in vain.

Today is one such day.

Bucky opens and closes their front door, a spring in his step as he goes to the fridge, ready to grab a bottle of water and find Y/N to tell her about the puppies he had seen that morning at the shelter.

Guilt floods him when he hears a hiccup and then a weak attempt at stifling a string of sniffles. He pauses and turns toward their living room, heart breaking when he sees Y/N seated on their couch desperately stuffing away tear soaked tissues wherever she can. She plasters a watery smile to her face and turns to him. “Hey Buck!” But her voice cracks and another tear tracks down her cheek. “Oh, fuck,” she whispers to herself, shaking her head.

“Baby,” he says, immediately striding into the room, scanning it for any threats (just in case, always _in case_ ). “What’s wrong, doll?” She doesn’t answer, only shakes her head and looks away.

He frowns, sitting next to her so he can pull her close. “Tell me, baby. I’m here.”

But again, she shakes her head. This time she murmurs, “It’s nothing. It’s silly.”

For a moment he just holds her against his chest, hoping the warmth of his body and his presence might help her. Something, however, doesn’t sit right with him. “Why won’t you tell me?”

Y/N pushes him away so she can sit up straight and dab at her eyes with yet another tissue. “Because it’s nothing, alright? I’m okay.” She tries to make her voice strong but it shakes horribly.

He’s not so good with words anymore, HYDRA seems to have stolen most of his voice from his soul. But for Y/N he tries. Because she always tries her hardest for him and if she had given up on her first try they wouldn’t be here right now. _He_ might not be here at all.

“There’s somethin’ goin’ on, doll,” he says quietly, reaching out to stroke his thumb across her cheek.

She jerks away and stands, “I’m okay. It’s nothing. Really. Compared to what you go through, it’s nothing.”

Another frown tugs at him lips as he asks, “What d’ya mean ‘compared to what I go through’? I'm not trying to compare, doll.”

Y/N hugs her arms around her middle and walks to the window, peering out at the Brooklyn street below. “I mean…just what I said. My problems seem stupid in comparison to what you go through on a-,”

He stands and walks across the room to her, quickly wrapping his arms around her, “No. You gotta let me help you sometimes Y/N. You can’t be carryin’ around everyone’s shit all the time. Especially mine. You can hurt too.”

Suddenly, she bursts out into fresh tears. “It was just a horrible day. First I missed the train. Then some creep tried to hit on me.” His grip tightens on her just a little when she says that, which makes her sprout a tiny grin at his protectiveness. “Then it started to rain and I forgot my umbrella because you weren’t here this morning to remind me.” Another small hiccup lurches out of her chest. “Which reminds me. You weren’t here to give me a goodbye kiss. And I don’t blame you for that it’s just that it makes everything a little more bearable. But anyways, I got rained on. And then I finally make it there and they call a meeting for all the teachers and tell us they might be closing our school.”

Bucky let’s her cry into his shirt, guilt swimming around in his stomach. Just when he’s about to open his mouth she whispers, “And you’ve been doing so good lately, with everything, that I thought it would be insignificant and hurtful to tell you.”

“Oh, doll,” he murmurs against her hair. “I’m here. Let me be here for you.”

She nods, almost imperceptibly, against his shoulder. So, he scoops her up and carries her to bed, tucking her safely away from the world for just a moment. He lowers the blinds and then gets into bed with her. “Go ahead.” Y/N fits herself around him how she likes and then she cries. She doesn’t want to leave the school. She had traveled back and forth from Manhattan to Brooklyn to stay at the school when they lived in the Tower for a time together. She loves the kids, knows them and the community. She had done fundraisers and stayed late to tutor. She had come back during evenings, like the day Bucky had gotten his hair cut, to deep clean the building. She cares, she’s invested, and she doesn’t want to move.

So, he holds her close and kisses her temple. “Maybe they won’t baby. It isn’t time to worry yet.”

“I know,” she whispers. “I’m just afraid.”

Fear is something he can relate to, both real and unfounded. “I’m sorry, doll.”

“It’s stupid, I know,” she shakes her head slowly before pressing her face into his neck. “I’m sorry.”

Pulling her impossibly closer he makes a noise of disagreement. “Why is it stupid? I don’t think so.”

Y/N wraps her arms around him tightly, hands fisting in his short hair. “Because. Because you go through so much more and you never complain and-and-and-,” she’s sobbing again. Her tears run hotly against his face as her hands tighten in his hair. 

“Because I have you. I have support. Let me support you too. I _want_ to care for you and comfort you. I’m so sorry this is happening to you baby, but let me be there for you. I don’t want you to feel like you’re on your own. I’m here.” He kisses her hair gently. “I’m here for you no matter what. You’re allowed to have hard days too.”

“You’ve just been doing so well…I didn’t want to bring you down. Or upset you.”

For what feels like the thousandth time that day he frowns. “Why would I be upset?”

She squeezes her arms tighter around him, nearly choking him. “Because I have intimate knowledge of what you go through every day so I feel like I’m complaining about nothing and that you would feel…I dunno…like I never understood in the first place. But I’m still upset and so-,”

“Doll…” he whispers, cutting her off. Guilt hits him hard. Y/N thought she wasn’t entitled to negative feelings because of him. “I never meant for you to feel like that. 'Course it's not nothing.”

“I know,” she suddenly wails. “I know! I just…I don’t want you to think-,”

“Sweetheart,” he uses yet another pet name in an attempt to get her to calm down. “Whatever you’re about to say…I don’t think that. You take such good care of me all the time. You’ve seen all my baggage and insecurities and yet you’re still by my side. I love you. I’m supposed to care for you too. That’s how a relationship works.” He strokes his hand over her hair as he kisses her collarbone. “I know I don’t tell you nearly enough…but thank you, babydoll. Thank you for always being my touchstone.”

Some of the tension is starting to drain from her body. “It sucks,” she says quietly.

He kisses her cheek, “I know.”

“Keep kissing me,” she demands with a small pout. “It makes me feel better. And you owe me for this morning.”

Bucky chuckles and keeps kissing her, telling her about his day at the animal shelter in between kisses. Because he had had a good day. And on his bad days she always found something positive to tell him about, and so he does the same. She strokes his hair gently as he talks and kisses. “Thank you, Buck.”

He nuzzles at her neck affectionately. “Anything for you. I’m sorry about your day. I’m sorry about your school.”

“I’ll be okay. I’m just worried about the kids.” She pauses and then asks, “Buck?”

He smiles, because of course she’d worry about the kids. “Hm?”

“You want a dog don’t you?”

He sighs and worms closer yet to her, “We can talk about it another time. I need to know that you know I’m here. That I can be your rock as much as you’re mine. I’m here, baby. Always.”

“I know. I know.” She pats his cheek again. “I do. I know. I just…worry about you. You’ve been doing so well.”

“I worry about you too.” He presses his lips to hers. “So, I’m gonna keep kissing you and telling you about dogs.”

She lets him, murmuring how proud she’s been lately. And he has been doing better. His nightmares have stopped. He goes to therapy alone. He laughs and smiles. He helps out at an animal shelter. He’s more confident. He meets his gaze in the mirror and has stopped listening to podcasts. He hasn’t relapsed into The Winter Soldier in months.

Y/N leans forward and kisses him midsentence. “Bucky.”

His smile is easy when he meets her eyes, “What is it, baby? Distracted ya, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” she cups his cheek. “You did. Just wanted to say thanks and that I’m glad neither of us gave up.”

“On us? Or me?”

“Both.” She kisses him again, “And even if you gave up on us, I’m so glad you never gave up on you.”

He presses his forehead to hers. “You gave me the confidence to never give up on me.”

“Oh, baby…” She kisses him again, her bottom lip trembling. “Let’s get a dog.” A fissure runs through her voice. "Let's get a dog."

He chuckles, “And then we’ll get married.”

His heart stalls in chest and he keeps his eyes down, pulling away from her a little. Because although he had been thinking about it he hadn’t intended to ask her. He hadn’t even asked her so much as _told_ her. But Y/N only smiles and whispers, “Okay.”

A soft sigh of relief leaves him before a wide smile overcomes him, “Okay?”

“Yeah.” She smiles, “Because you’re my touchstone, my only place to be.”

He leans in and kisses her. “I’m here.”

“So am I.”


End file.
